Page 99 of Broken Saint
A few of his more sordid moments in the media flicker through my mind, and I lower my gaze.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, sitting forward and resting his elbows on the table.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“Ella, are you jealous?”
My eyes immediately find his. “What? No, don’t be crazy. I’m not?—”
“You are,” he decides, his smile widening. “You wanted to be the one I was caught with.”
“Colt, you’re being insane,” I argue, but it’s pointless. He knows me too well, and he sees through me before I even finish talking.
His eyes flash with something, but it’s gone before I can try and decipher it.
“If you say so,” he says, reaching for his glass and taking a sip of his water as if he didn’t just shake the ground beneath my feet.
Am I jealous of all the women he’s been pictured with over the last few years? Yes. And it’s even worse with those he’s been caught in compromising positions with.
Damn it, I want to be the girl he has to have in the locker room after a game, or in the front of his car, or in a hotel lobby because the room is just too far away.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing my chair back and pulling my leg away from where his foot is still brushing against me. “I need to use the bathroom.”
My legs move faster than they should, considering the height of the heels on my feet, but I need to get away from his heated stare.
It’s been less than twenty-four hours and I’m already losing my head to Colt just like I did back in college.
I want everything with him. Everything he’s always told me wasn’t possible.
I could handle it back then. I was stronger, less…less broken and beaten down.
Right now, I’m more vulnerable than I want to admit, and with the right words—hell, maybe even a few of the wrong ones—my heart is going to run away with itself.
And there’s only one outcome to that.
I’ll once again be left high and dry. Because Colton doesn’t do serious, and he certainly doesn’t do forever.
I’ve heard it time and time again from his own lips. And while his actions right now might make it look like things have changed, I can’t allow myself to latch onto that.
The end of us very nearly killed me the last time. I have no doubt that it will if it happens again.
I push through the door and stumble into the bathroom when my heel gets caught on the threshold.
“Fuck,” I gasp, catching myself on a sideboard with a single box of tissues and a bottle of hand cream on top.
I take a breath, trying to get myself under control. And then I make the mistake of looking up.
27
COLTON
Iwatch her go, my eyes locked on her ass as it sways from left to right as she makes her escape.
With every step she takes, dread and panic quickly bubble up.
“Shit,” I hiss, scrubbing my hand down my face the second she turns the corner and disappears from my sight.
I’m fucking all this up.